


The Ballad of Captain Kevin Cozner

by Anonymous



Series: The Ballad of Captain Kevin Cozner [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Closeted Character, Different Cheddar, Homophobia, Kevin is a cop, M/M, alternative universe, not an actual ballad, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22317739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: An AU in which Kevin is an NYPD captain. He meets Holt during season 5.
Relationships: Kevin Cozner/Ray Holt
Series: The Ballad of Captain Kevin Cozner [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612810
Comments: 8
Kudos: 104
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

When he noticed Cheddar flatten his ears, Kevin braced himself in anticipation of the unpleasantness that was no doubt coming his way.

There it was, the smell of obnoxiously musky cologne and two hands grabbing his shoulders from behind, giving him a shake.

“Hey there, Doggy Style! How‘s it hangin’?”

Cheddar let out a low growl, his eyes locking with Kevin’s, seeking permission to attack. Sadly, Kevin could not grant it, no matter how much he would have liked to. Instead, he stoically endured his former partner’s appalling display of what Pembroke would probably consider ʻcamaraderieʼ, while silently thanking whatever gods there might exist that he no longer had to work with the man on a daily basis.

It was bad luck that Pembroke had found him in an otherwise empty meeting room at One Police Plaza. As usual, Kevin had arrived early, thinking he might use the time productively. This coincidence, however, was threatening to foil his plans.

With no other choice available to him, Kevin turned in his chair and acknowledged his colleague’s presence in what he deemed an appropriate fashion.

“Captain Pembroke, as I have told you numerous times, please refrain from calling me… _that_ ,” he said.

Pembroke straightened, a grin on his face that might be associated with the consumption of excrement. Kevin wrinkled his nose. He knew only too well what he could expect from this interaction.

“Come on, Kev, everyone calls you that, it’s your nickname. Plus, it’s fuckin’ rad. Only thing better than doggy style is the wheelbarrow!” Pembroke dropped into a squat and reached out to roughly pet Cheddar’s head, making both dog and owner grit their teeth as they bore the onslaught. “Aint that right, little buddy? You know what I’m talking about! Sniff any hot bitches lately?”

“He gets it,” Pembroke announced, voice filled with self-satisfaction.

“He does not,” Kevin replied. “He is a dog. Also, in accordance with NYPD regulations for K-9 units, he is neutered.” Kevin could think of certain other NYPD members who might benefit from neutering. He kept the thought to himself.

Still pawing at Cheddar’s ears, Pembroke looked up at him. “God, you’re such a boner killer. When was the last time _you_ sniffed a hot bitch, huh?”

Cheddar, too, was looking up at Kevin, his gaze communicating that he was reaching the limits of his patience, which was saying something, since, as a police dog, he was trained to endure quite a lot. _Yes,_ Kevin thought, _I might ask you to follow me into the line of fire, but I will not ask this of you, it is too much._

“Please stop touching my dog. He is on duty,” he said and turned back to the paperwork in front of him to demonstrate that the conversation had reached its conclusion.

Pembroke did not take the hint – well, perhaps, out of habit, he was waiting for another detective to work a couple of months towards reaching the hint and only then would swoop in to take it from him. While Kevin did not call Captain Keith Pembroke ʻThe Vultureʼ, since he considered the use of such nicknames unprofessional, he understood the sentiment behind it. Anyway, Pembroke lingered behind him, which set Kevin’s teeth on edge.

“Was there anything else?” he asked, half-turning reluctantly.

Pembroke was studying him with an intensity Kevin could not help but find concerning.

“You know,” he said, “word is, the commissioner’s going to retire next year and your meeting with him on Tuesday is actually going to be an interview to see if you might be a valid candidate for the job.”

Kevin blinked, not sure he had heard right.

“Excuse me. How would you—” Nobody even knew he had a meeting with the commissioner on Tuesday. Kevin himself had only received the phone call a day before. He had not told anyone in his precinct.

“Hey, I know what’s going on, okay? Why do you think I’m always in the right place at the right time?” Pembroke winked. As usual, Pembroke’s wink made Kevin feel the need to take a shower. “I got my ear to the ground. That way I never miss anything. Also, great angle to look up chicks’ skirts.” Once more, the Captain clasped Kevin’s shoulder, squeezing tightly to demonstrate his machismo. “Later, Doggy Style!” he called as he sauntered out of the room.

Kevin looked down at Cheddar lying at his feet, head resting on his front paws, his German Shepherd face as professionally blank as ever, though Kevin thought he could see relief in his partner’s eyes. Instinctively, he reached down and scratched behind Cheddar’s ears.

“Commissioner,” he said to himself. “Hm.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So, the competish!” Gina stepped aside dramatically to reveal the screen showing the three identical WMO candidates, plus the fourth WMNQAO one.

“I’m sorry, what do these acronyms mean exactly?” Holt asked.

“Can’t you tell, I mean, look at them! White. Male. Old.” Gina pointed at numbers one, two and three, Bryan McCann and the two John Kellys, then drew her finger over to number four, Kevin Cozner, “and White. Male. Not Quite As Old.” Though, technically, Captain Cozner was pretty old, in Gina’s opinion, but since he was a couple of years younger than her own Captain, she kept that part to herself.

“Ah. I think you forgot to include an H,” the Captain said, raising both eyebrows meaningfully. “For _heterosexual._ ”

“Yeah, well, sadly that’s kind of a given at this point. Want to see their wives?” Gina clicked the button to reveal the Stepford horror show that were the three pretty much cloned Mistresses – and God, she was still mad at Amy for telling her that the plural of Mrs. was actually Mistresses. Ew. “Or should I say, wife?”

“Where is number four?”

“In that case it actually _is_ wives, plural. Meet Mrs. Cozner one, two and three.” These three women could not have been more different. If nothing else, Kev seemed like he was a proponent of diversity. “They’re all exes though. Captain Cozner has been single for years, no doubt doing whatever.” Gina leaned forward and mock-whispered, “I heard his friends call him _Doggy Style_.”

As expected, Holt recoiled. “And that man is running for the position of commissioner? Good God.”


	3. Chapter 3

Some part of Kevin was still surprised that he had actually made it this far, to the candidates’ meet and greet where they were supposed to give their presentations. It was truly concerning – though not surprising – that someone like Captain Keith Pembroke knew so much about what was going on behind the scenes of the NYPD.

Kevin was keeping to the back of the room, mostly watching, only engaging in small talk when he absolutely had to. The truth was that he did not quite know how to feel about this entire situation. Yes, he had worked hard to advance a career in which he secretly, at the very bottom of his heart never felt truly comfortable. He felt like an imposter. Mostly because he was an imposter. Certainly, on some level.

And yet. He had worked hard. He had put in countless hours. He had earned honors and medals and climbed through the ranks. That was not nothing. He was an intelligent and capable man, he knew that. If he were to become commissioner, he would do everything to improve the NYPD, to lead it into a bright future. At least he liked to tell himself that he would.

As it was, he was slinking along the back wall of the small venue, Cheddar slinking along by his side. Worrying. Worrying that having been nominated to run for commissioner would lead people to dig into his past and private affairs. He did not want to draw too much attention to himself. He had thought about declining the offer from the start, but he also did not want people to become suspicious of that. After all, the nomination did not come out of nowhere and it did make sense. His record at the NYPD was spotless, he had shown skill and ambition, he had proven himself countless times in the field and behind the desk. Additionally, since he had no family apart from Cheddar and a trail of ex-wives, his career was the center of his life. He did not have any reason to refuse the opportunity.

And yet.

Kevin glanced over at the table around which one half of his competition had congregated. McCann and the two Kellys were having a conversation over snacks and drinks, laughing heartily and seemingly having the time of what little could at this point be left of their lives.

Then he turned and looked over at the other half. As soon as his gaze found the broad back of Captain Raymond Holt, his stomach twisted into a knot. Holt was standing with a young woman by his side, both of them facing away from Kevin. They were giggling like schoolgirls sharing a secret. It was undignified and yet—

 _Defiant,_ Kevin thought. _Brave_.

He swallowed. Ever since he had learned that, of all people, _Raymond Holt_ was to be among the candidates opposing him, he’d suffered from stomach aches and insomnia. Holt deserved this more than he did. But Kevin did not think they lived in a world where Raymond Holt would get what he deserved. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Another person was approaching the pair. Kevin recognized Captain Olivia Crawford, the new candidate who was taking the place of McCann. He had only heard about this surprising development minutes before the meeting had opened. Crawford was not the candidate he had expected, but he was glad she had got this far. However, the cynical part of his brain wondered whether she and Holt had been nominated for the optics alone. It would have looked bad if, from the very beginning, there were only white men in the picture. Having a more diverse pool of candidates might in the end only serve as justification for choosing a white man. _Oh,_ they would say, see, _we gave everyone a chance, and he just happened to be the best._

Kevin drew in a breath. The odds were in his favor. That was just the way it was.

Crawford was facing his way. She was talking to Holt and his companion, then she shifted, and her eyes met Kevin’s. She nodded at him, grim determination and a spark of challenge in her eyes. 

Whatever the Department had in store for her, Kevin could see she would fight. He respected that. He nodded back, touching a hand to the brim of his cap in greeting. She held his gaze, causing the other two to turn to see what had caught her attention.

Feeling a twinge of nerves, Kevin squared his shoulders, took off his cap and walked over to join them, Cheddar by his side. He focused on Crawford, so he didn’t have to meet Captain Holt’s eyes.

“Captain Cozner,” she said, “are you lost? I believe there is a spot open for you over there at the old white men table. Maybe your therapy dog can lead you there, if you’re having trouble.”

“Captain Crawford, _so_ nice to see you again. Cheddar is actually a police dog. I believe he has earned more medals than most officers here.” Kevin smiled placidly, holding her gaze. “More than you, just to name one completely random example.”

“Oh, solid burn,” the young woman next to Captain Raymond Holt whispered.

Captain Crawford’s smile didn’t falter, in fact she looked almost pleased.

To Kevin’s horror, Holt cleared his throat. “I don’t believe we have met before, Captain Cozner? I am Raymond Holt.”

“Oh, no we haven’t.” Reluctantly, he reached out and grasped the hand the captain was offering. Holt’s hand was warm and dry, his grip firm. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” They were looking into each other’s eyes as they shook, as one was supposed to, and Kevin felt as though Holt was looking right through his façade, his dark, intense eyes boring into Kevin.

Captain Raymond Holt had a perfect handshake and beautiful eyes, Kevin thought, then instantly pushed those thoughts away. Sensing the moment of emotional turmoil, Cheddar pressed against his leg.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin said as soon as the captain released his hand, “I still have some business to attend to, please excuse me.”

There was no other way to put it, Kevin fled. He could feel their gazes on him as he, realizing he had no other choice, made his way over to what Crawford had dubbed ʻthe old white men tableʼ where the Kellys were deep in conversation about how to protect the values and traditions of the NYPD. Kevin tried to keep a bit of distance, tried to deflect their attempts to rope him into the conversation, but he knew that for all the world – certainly for Olivia Crawford and Raymond Holt – he looked like he was right where he belonged. 

And how could he blame them? Wasn’t this exactly what he wanted?


	4. Chapter 4

All in all, Raymond Holt considered the candidates’ meeting a success. He had stood up for his values, the way he always had, demonstrating the integrity he wished to embody and inspire in his colleagues. And yes, he had kept Captain Olivia Crawford in the running and consequently made a new friend-enemy. However, he would defeat her in the end, and he would do it the right way, by proving himself to be the better candidate based on his accomplishments and plans for the future of the NYPD.

So, all was well.

Except for one thing.

He could not stop thinking about Captain Kevin Cozner. There was just something about the man. Something off.

In the way he had shaken Raymond’s hand. His soft, warm palm sliding against Raymond’s, his eyes the pale blue of a cloudless summer sky—

Raymond blinked and shook his head.

_No._

Yes, Captain Cozner was a handsome man. That was undeniable. Raymond Holt himself was only a man, made of flesh and blood and he had certain needs, of course, and it had been a while since—

Well.

However, he was a man well into middle age; he simply did not develop ʻcrushesʼ on random men he met anymore. Certainly not on random heterosexual men. Random heterosexual _policemen._

He had not ʻlikedʼ a random heterosexual human male since he was fifteen years old. The random heterosexual human male in question had been – Dequan Martens, the president of his high school’s chess club. Raymond had spent many nights lying awake in bed, imagining himself playing endless games of chess with Dequan, picturing the tips of Dequan’s fingers picking up the smooth, polished pieces and setting them down again. In his dreamless sleep, he still sometimes thought he heard the way they clicked on the board.

But he was a man now and he did not long for those days and nights of painful pining after what he could never have.

The antidote to this poison was obvious. He merely had to conjure up the memory of that parade of ex-wives, the unspeakably crude ʻnicknameʼ and the way Cozner had turned tail and stood in silent alliance with the Paleozoic Kellys.

There. Raymond nodded to himself and went back to the casefile in front of him on the desk. He turned over a couple of pages, pulled out the crime scene photos and thought of Kevin sitting in the second to last row during his short speech at the meeting. The way Kevin – _Cozner,_ Raymond corrected himself; they were not on a first name basis! – had ducked his head and laughed at his opening ʻshort listʼ joke. The way he had looked up at Raymond during his announcement that he would not give his presentation in front of a biased committee. Captain Kevin Cozner’s serious expression, the line of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes. The way he had nodded, almost imperceptivity, a small movement that Raymond had caught and interpreted as meant for him.

Oh, this was foolish! Raymond closed the casefile and took a deep breath. Why was he indulging in this childish, idiotic train of thought?

He did not know this man. They were _rivals_!

Captain Kevin Cozner was exactly the type of person who had stood in Raymond’s way all his life. Raymond squeezed his eyes shut and willed his emotions to order. Cozner was handsome, _so what_? He would not lose to this man. In fact, Raymond would crush Cozner and leave him in the dust.


	5. Chapter 5

“We have to get rid of Captain Cozner,” Gina said upon waltzing into his office without knocking.

Raymond shot her a disapproving look over the frame of his reading glasses. “Gina,” he began, only to be interrupted.

“Look, sir, his middle of the road, non-threatening white dude-act is giving him a huge edge.”

Raymond shrugged. This was not news. He was not happy about it, quite the opposite actually, but Captain Cozner’s vagueness regarding his plans for the future of the NYPD combined with the fact that he happened to be a white man were bound to draw the votes of all those who found Kelly too reactionary yet still shied away from the truly progressive candidates. Still, he felt the strange urge to defend the man.

“He is also a decorated officer with a spotless record and decades of experience,” he pointed out. _More than just a pretty face,_ a disastrous part of his brain supplied unbidden.

“Yeah, that’s why we have to destroy him. _Duh_.”

Raymond cocked his head. He picked up a pen and tapped it against his bottom lip in thought. “And how do you propose we do that?” he asked reluctantly.

“Dirt,” Gina shot back as though it was obvious and he was being obtuse. “He transferred a lot between precincts in the 90s, maybe something happened. Plus, he’s got all those ex-wives, I bet at least one of them would love to let a couple of cats out of the bag about the good captain.”

Raymond raised an eyebrow at the idiom and the opportunity it presented. The corner of his mouth twitched into the briefest of smiles. “Hm. Captain Cozner does not strike me as a cat person, Gina.”

Naturally, Gina had no appreciation for his humorous remark, she merely rolled her eyes. “Yeeeaah,” she drawled, giving the colloquialism of yes far more syllables than it deserved – it deserved none, in Raymond’s opinion -- “I guess, if all else fails, we can still just go with the Doggy Style thing.”

The repulsive nickname, yes. Raymond would do well to keep it in mind. Captain Cozner was _a dog_. A handsome dog, certainly, bound to win a trophy at one show or another, but still a _dog._

Gina raised her eyebrows suggestively. “’Cause you know there’s a nasty story there.”

What choice did he have? Raymond knew the numbers were not in his favor. Men like Cozner had a tendency to come out on top, Raymond had seen it happen over and over again. Mediocre white men were running the whole world. He did not approve of Gina’s methods, but he did want to know more about his competition. “Fine,” he said, “do some research, but come to me with anything you find.”

“You got it, Captain.”


	6. Chapter 6

Two days later, Gina barged into his office, brandishing a manila envelope.

“Okay, you need to sit down for this, Captain.”

Raymond glanced down, confirming what he already knew, namely that, yes, his buttocks were in his chair, his feet on the ground. “I am obviously already sitting down,” he said.

“Well, in that case you might have to hold on to your desk because I’ve got the scoop on your nemesis and it is juicy _AF_.”

Humoring her, Raymond put his hands on his desktop.

“So? Tell me.”

“Don’t have to tell you when I can show you.” With an exaggerated flourish, Gina slapped the envelope down in front of him. “Here.”

He picked up the envelope, opened it and looked inside. It contained only two pieces of paper. Suppressing a sigh, Raymond pulled the pieces of paper out and held the first one up in front of his face. It was a photo. A black and white photo, showing the brick wall of a building, an open window and in the window, two men, kissing.

He glanced up at Gina. He did not like this. He did not like this at all. “What… am I looking at?” he asked, though it was painfully obvious.

“Captain Cozner and his dirty little secret.” Gina stepped around the desk and leaned into his personal space to point at the man whose back was to the window. “His ex- _boyfriend_.”

In the second photo, the angle was slightly different. The men were visible in profile. Raymond had already recognized Cozner in the first picture, in this one it was impossible not to do so. There was the aristocratic arch of his nose, his thin lips, parted slightly, his long, elegant fingers splayed against the other man’s cheek.

_So, this is how he kisses…_

Raymond clenched his jaw, hating the warmth coiling in his stomach. He tore his eyes off the picture – off Kevin – _Captain Cozner!_ – and put it down.

“ _Gina_ ,” he said, scandalized. “Where did you get these?”

“Does it matter? They’re real.”

He drew in a breath, shaking his head. He did not know what to say to this. There was nothing to say.

Growing impatient with his lack of response, Gina slapped her hand down on the desk. “Captain, he’s gay! And he’s pretending to be straight.”

“He might be bisexual…” Raymond argued. “Or this might have been… a fluke.” Honestly, there were many possible explanations. And they were all flimsy.

Raymond forced his eyes to remain on Gina.

“Doesn’t matter! If the dinosaurs even suspect that he took the D, they will drop him like space dropped an asteroid on them, you know that! Hell, you _lived_ it!”

“And what kind of hypocrite would I be if I forcibly outed a man to sabotage his career?” Unable to withstand the temptation any longer, Raymond flipped the photo over. He fixed his assistant with a pointed glare. “Gina, you must realize that I would never stoop to this level.”

Gina shrugged, unsurprised. “Yeah, you wouldn’t because you’re 24 carat gold – sorry, Boyle’s been using that phrase for everything lately; it’s _weird_ – but you know who would? John Kelly! We just leak it to him, and he will do the dirty deed for us! Aaaand, added bonus! That will make Kelly lose the vote of any sort of progressive but not too progressive coward. They won’t support him if he crosses that line! Two OWLs, one stone!”

“Owls? I believe the proper saying is two birds, one stone, why the specification?”

She grinned. “Not owls, OWLs. Old. White. Losers.”

Raymond had to give it to her, it was a good acronym. Still, as much as he wanted to become commissioner, he could not be part of such a scheme.

“Gina, no. I cannot condone this. We will do no such thing.”

“Ugh, okay, fine!” Gina threw up her hands. “Then how about we just call Cozner and tell him we know his secret and that we’ll release the pictures unless he concedes?”

Hoping his ears were deceiving him, Raymond squinted at his assistant. “You are proposing we _blackmail_ a _captain_ of the _NYPD_?”

Gina, being Gina, and how did that still surprise him after five years? did a double-take. “You’re saying this like it’s a bad thing.”

“Yes, because it is a bad thing.”

“Then what do _you_ think we should do, Captain?”

“With these? Absolutely nothing.” He slipped the pictures back into the envelope, then realized that this was not nearly enough, so he got up and walked over to his document shredder. “In fact, I will dispose of them right now.”

It would not do to leave them in one piece. Someone might find them and take them—

Although, Raymond supposed, if he stored them in a safe place, perhaps at home in his apartment—

He closed his eyes, reining himself in. They had to be destroyed.

When he fed the envelope into the shredder, Gina gasped. “What? No! Don’t you see what’s going on here? How are you not mad as hell?”

“I do not see what this man’s sexuality has to do with his chances of becoming commissioner.”

“Oh, you don’t, huh? I’m sorry, but don’t give me that crap, sir!”

Raymond sighed, touched by Gina’s outrage despite her crude language. Before he had taken command of the Nine-Nine, very few people had ever expressed anger on behalf of the way he was treated, but that was exactly why he could not bring himself to judge Cozner. “What I am meaning to say is,” he amended gently, “it _should_ not affect his career in any way.”

“Well, it sure as hell affected _your_ career and still does!” Gina folded her arms across her chest, glaring daggers at him. “And it would have affected his if he hadn’t kept it secret. Look, you were out there fighting all those battles for years! And he just hid like a coward and now he’ll take the commissioner job, too! While you’re still here getting all kinds of bullshit for trying to make life better for people like him! It’s not fair!”

It was not fair, of course, it was not fair. It had never been fair, but the trick was not to become part of the unfairness. Fire should be fought with water, not more fire.

“Damn, is this how Kanye felt when he dissed TaySway for Beyoncé?” Gina muttered, pacing.

“Gina… we do not know anything about this man’s life. If he truly is gay – well, he is around my age – I’m sure he has faced his share of hardships. He was shot in the line of duty, _twice_. How he handles his private affairs is his private affair.”

“Yeah, well, if he becomes commissioner – and right now it looks like he will – then I guess the lesson is just, if you’re different, keep it to yourself, hide who you are and do what you’re told and say what everyone wants to hear and protect the status quo at all cost.” She flapped her hands around nonsensically, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “Never spread your wings and fly. _Never dance_. I hope you’re okay with that, Captain Holt.” Then she did a sweeping turn and strode to the door, where she paused for one last withering look over her shoulder. “And also, _Boyle_ was shot in the line of duty! It just means you’re bad at dodging bullets. That should not be rewarded.”


	7. Chapter 7

Gina Linetti would not have been Gina Linetti if she had given up, just because her captain told her to. Not when she was so right and he was soooo wrong.

_So_ wrong.

It was almost cute how he’d shredded the pictures, like that would mean that they were gone or something. Seriously, at some point she would have to explain the cloud to him, but that might take years and she was kind of on a schedule here.

So, Gina did the obvious thing. She called Captain Cozner’s precinct and told his assistant Maude – who sounded like she was either in her eighties or actually already dead, her thin, reedy voice floating through the ether – that Captain Raymond Holt would like to meet Captain Kevin Cozner for lunch soon. When would that be possible? Oh, tomorrow? Yes, 12 o’clock at Two Daughters. Great!

Easy.

And then, the next day, during her lunch break, all she had to do was go to Two Daughters, sit in a booth and wait.

Captain Cozner arrived at exactly 11:58, in uniform, dog in tow. Gina had already decided that she liked the dog. He looked like he was above it all and Gina could respect that.

Cozner took off his cap and glanced around.

When his gaze finally found her, she grinned and waved. “Over here!”

Looking puzzled, the captain came over. He stood by the table, at a loss.

“I’m sorry, I believe we met at the candidate presentations, but I don’t think we were introduced. You work for Captain Holt?”

“Take a seat. I’m Captain Holt’s personal assistant, Gina Linetti. But you can just call me your worst nightmare.” Still grinning, she reached down to scratch the dog behind the ears. He leaned into her touch, tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Hi, Wolfy!”

When she looked up again, Cozner was still staring at her, aghast. “Excuse me?”

Gina gestured at the seat opposite her. “Sit down, Kev.”

“I was told to meet Captain Holt here,” he said, voice clipped with barely concealed anger. He glanced around once more, and Gina could feel the insecurity rolling off him in waves. She’d have felt sorry for him if he wasn’t so pathetic. It was like looking at a taller, balder version of Boyle. “Where is he?”

Vinyl creaked softly as Gina leaned back in her booth. “Yeah, I lied. He’s not coming.”

“Then I’m leaving,” Cozner said, voice like ice. “Miss Linetti.”

Gina laughed. “No, you’re not. Because you’re going to want to see this.” She slapped her new manila envelope on the table and used one finger to slide it over to where she wanted the captain to sit. When he just stood there, frozen, she repeated, a hint of friendly threat in her voice, “Believe me, you definitely are going to want to see this.”

“Miss Linetti, I am a captain of the NYPD,” Cozner said as if that had anything to do with anything, and Gina rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, duh, I know the uniform and the little pin-on things, I see them every day. I work in a police precinct, remember. Open the envelope.”

Cozner stepped closer. He glanced at his dog, then at the envelope and Wolfy stretched and took a sniff. Gina had to give it to him, it was kinda impressive how he didn’t even have to say anything to his dog. But then it was also pretty ridiculous because what? Did he think she’d brought anthrax or a bomb or something? Maybe she should feel flattered that he thought she might be some crazy super villain. Yeah, definitely flattered.

After another moment of telepathic? communication between dog and owner, the captain picked up the envelope, opened it and peeked inside. That was all it took because he knew exactly what it was. He’d seen the pictures before, years ago when wife number three had her lawyer show them to him.

Cozner swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and finally slid into the booth.

“She swore she would get rid of them,” he muttered.

“Guess she lied to you. But then you lied to her a bunch, too, so…” Gina shrugged.

“Touché. What do you want?” He frowned, his expression even more troubled than before. “Is Raymond Holt behind this?”

Gina opened her mouth to reply when a young waitress in a Two Daughters t-shirt sidled up to their table.

“Hi, what can I get you?” she chirped, completely breaking the mood, but whatever. In a way, Gina loved that this gave her the opportunity to watch Cozner squirm a little while longer.

“A large strawberry milkshake and fries,” she said cheerfully. Then, turning to Cozner, she added, “They have really good walnut pie here, you should try it.”

The captain shot her a dark look.

“Just… a glass of water, that will be all,” he said.

“Coming right up!”

Once the waitress had moved on to the next table, Gina picked up where they’d left off.

“Captain Holt has nothing to do with this. He actually shredded the pics when I gave them to him. Luckily, I had digital copies.”

“So, what do you want from me?”

“Nothing. Captain Holt says I can’t threaten to give them to John Kelly unless you withdraw from the commissioner race because that’s like ʻblackmailʼ or something—”

“That… is the definition of blackmail, yes.”

“Whatever. He doesn’t want me to do it, so I’m not doing it. You can have the photos and I’ll delete them.”

Cozner frowned. “Then why—”

“Because you should withdraw from the race. I can’t make you, but you should. You’re leeching votes off Captain Holt and that sucks. Plus, I don’t know why you’re still in the closet – it’s 2018!—"

“Please, Miss Linetti, keep your voice down.”

Gina rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. He’s been fighting your fight, and you know it. Getting the commissioner job is his dream, but he’s not going to throw you under the bus to achieve it. I just wanted you to think about that.”

It wasn’t as satisfying to see Cozner hang his head as she had hoped. He looked a bit more pathetic than before, but that was it. Gina allowed silence to stretch between them as the waitress returned and set down her order. She listened to the sounds of the diner, the clink of cutlery, the voices of the teenagers in the next booth, Wolfy panting under the table. Maybe this was a waste of time. She sucked some milkshake through her straw and watched the captain stare glumly into his water.

“I’m sorry, Miss Linetti,” he said softly, not meeting her eyes, “I do think that your captain deserves the position more than I do. But an openly gay commissioner? It is not going to happen. I wish it were. I truly wish it were. But if I withdraw, John Kelly will become commissioner.”

“Maybe,” she said and shrugged because, yeah, sure, people could be dicks, “but there’s really only one way to know for sure. Think about it.”

He nodded, then he reached into his pocket, threw a few bills on the table, grabbed the envelope and got up to leave.

“Good day, Miss Linetti.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Gina, I need to see you in my office. Now!”

Gina looked up from her phone. All eyes in the bullpen were on her, everyone probably secretly glad the captain had summoned her and not them when he sounded this mad. Just to show them that, unlike some other people, she was no spineless coward, she hopped out of her chair and all but skipped into Holt’s office.

“You wanted to talk to me, Captain?”

“Yes.” Holt leaned back in his chair. He was in full on stare down mode. “I just received an email informing me that Captain Kevin Cozner has conceded. He is no longer in the race for commissioner.”

“Huh. Okay.” Gina nodded and held up two thumbs. “Congrats?”

“Please, tell me you did not have anything to do with this.”

Well, that was easy. “I did not have anything to do with this.”

Holt sighed. “Now tell me… the truth.”

“I did not have anything to do with this…”

She paused and Holt raised his eyebrows. He was clearly not buying what she was selling, so there was no point in trying.

“…unless you count meeting him for lunch and telling him he should concede, so you would have a better chance of winning.”

Holt released a breath. It was an angry breath, kind of like the equivalent of steam coming out of Donald Duck’s ears.

“Did you by any chance have certain photos with you?” he asked.

“Mmmm… yes, now that you mention it, I think I did.”

“ _Gina_ …” That tone was no good, it was usually reserved for Jake.

Time to come clean and do some damage control.

“I did not threaten him, sir. I gave him the photos and I have deleted them. All I did was tell him that he should look into his heart and do what he thinks is right. It’s basically the same advice he would have gotten if he’d watched any Disney/Pixar movie ever.”

Holt did not look happy, but at least he seemed marginally relieved. “I see… and you swear there was no blackmail involved.”

Gina held up one hand and put the other on her phone. “On grumpy cat’s grave, sir,” she said earnestly.

“Fine. You are dismissed.”


	9. Chapter 9

Raymond Holt was walking to his car, the dull echo of his steps following him through the dark parking garage. He was vaguely contemplating the events of the last couple of days, the way his competition had now shrunk to just one man standing between him and the seat of commissioner.

Captain Olivia Crawford had conceded, like Captain Kevin Cozner before her.

Crawford, however, had shaken Raymond’s hand and wished him luck. There had been no interaction with Captain Cozner. Even the email announcing his concession had been sent by the committee, not the man himself.

On some level, Raymond found himself wishing Cozner had put up more of a fight. It was strange. Captain Kevin Cozner was a man of countless field commendations, and yet outside of police operations he seemed to shy away from even the smallest confrontation.

As for his sexuality—

No, it would not do to dwell on Cozner, Raymond chastised himself. He had to focus on what was to come, Peralta’s and Santiago’s wedding and the decision regarding the commissioner job, which was out of his hands now.

Suddenly, Raymond realized that he was hearing more than the echo of his own steps. He stopped, habit guiding his hand to his gun.

“Captain Holt?” Although he had heard this voice only once before, it was still oddly familiar. Raymond turned around and spotted a man in a dark suit walking briskly in his direction. He was shocked to realize that it was the same man who had just now occupied his thoughts. It was almost as though he had willed Kevin Cozner to him. Raymond banished the ridiculous idea from his head before it could take root and fester, but not before it made his heart beat faster.

He watched the captain cut across a half circle of yellow light painted on the ground by one of the few lamps fixed to the concrete wall. The light gave his hair an orange hue and brought out the blue of his eyes.

Cozner stopped a few steps from him in the grey semidarkness. Raymond could see the hint of a smile on the other man’s face.

“Captain Cozner, what are you doing here?”

Before replying, Cozner cast a furtive glance over his shoulder as though he was afraid someone might have followed him. “I was in the neighborhood, attending a concert,” he said finally, his cultured voice soft in the dark. It carried no echo; it was only for Raymond. “When it was over, I realized that it was the end of the day shift and that I might be able to meet with you. I asked for you upstairs and they told me that you were already on the way to your car, so I tried my luck down here.”

“But why?” Raymond asked, trying not to think about how close they were. He could reach out and touch Cozner if he wanted to.

“It was brought to my attention that Captain Crawford has dropped out of the race. Only you and John Kelly are competing now.”

A fine fact to state, Raymond thought. “Yes, that is correct,” he said.

Once again, Captain Cozner’s eyes scanned their surroundings, squinting a little to see in the dark. When his gaze returned to Raymond, it seemed like he had made up his mind about something.

“As you know, I spoke to your assistant.”

Raymond nodded, bracing himself for the no doubt justified complaint.

Gina was—

Well, Gina.

However, Cozner did not look angry. The smile had gone, but if anything, he looked troubled. His gaze slid off Raymond’s face and to the ground for a moment as though he had lost something and was looking to find it again.

“I told her I did not believe an openly gay man would ever become commissioner of the NYPD,” he said. He raised his eyes, startling Raymond with their intensity. “I regret those words, and I am here to tell you that I hope you will prove them wrong.”

In an attempt to mask just how much Cozner had caught him off guard, Raymond cleared his throat. “Thank you, Captain. For what it’s worth, I would have liked to face you on an even playing field.”

“Would you now?” Cozner’s lips quirked into that hint of a smile again. It was quite wonderful. “Be careful what you wish for, Captain. Judged only by our achievements, I might have beaten you.” The way he jerked his chin up in challenge, Raymond could not help but find it flirtatious.

“Oh?” he replied, not quite unconsciously mirroring Cozner’s tone. “I have read your resumé. It is impressive, but not _that_ impressive.”

“Hm?” Cozner quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, well, I suppose you’re right, I do not share your experience in public relations. Eight years, I think? Is it true you named Polly the Pigeon? Meanwhile, I was wasting my time collecting medals.”

Raymond shrugged.

“They put me in public relations because they did not think a homosexual would be worth much in the field,” he said evenly. “I endured it until I got my own command.”

Cozner looked stricken and chastised, which had not been Raymond’s intention at all. Of course, there would be no even playing field for them, certainly not within the NYPD. _This is not your fault,_ Raymond wanted to tell the captain, _I made my own choices. I do not resent you for choosing differently._

But he opted to change the topic to lighten the mood instead.

“I have never seen you in civilian clothes before. I must say, they _suit_ you.” He raked his eyes appreciatively up the captain’s tie to the perfect full Windsor.

Cozner startled. “Oh my, was that a _pun,_ Captain?” He cocked his head, playful once more.

“Perhaps.” Raymond said, quite pleased with himself. “And where is your companion?”

“I’m afraid Cheddar does not share my love for Gustav Mahler. It is one of the few things on which we disagree.”

“Cheddar, an unusual name for a police officer. A little _cheesy_ , don’t you think?”

This time, Cozner laughed in surprised delight. It was a lovely sound. “My Goodness, your sense of humor is quite disarming.”

Raymond leaned in and said conspiratorially, “Hm, you’re just lying through your teeth now, Captain, you were never carrying your service weapon to begin with.”

There it was again. Raymond found himself thinking that he might never tire of hearing it. “Captain, _stop_ ,” Cozner said finally, firmly and yet with regret, “I should go, I have been keeping you far too long already.”

“No, it was a pleasure, Captain Cozner.”

“Truly,” Raymond added, because it had truly been a pleasure and he was sad that it was ending. He did not want it to end. Perhaps they could go out for a drink. Perhaps they could talk about Mahler. Perhaps…

Cozner offered his hand and Raymond grasped it, his body instantly remembering this touch. It sent sparks of electricity up his arm and down his spine. Without thinking, he pulled the captain a little closer.

“The NYPD would be lucky to have you as commissioner, Captain Holt,” Captain Cozner said and Raymond thought he could not only feel the warmth of his palm but also the warmth of his breath on his skin. Cozner’s eyes were incredibly blue, offset by the faint pink blush on his cheeks. “And I would be honored to serve under you,” he breathed.

Raymond’s lips parted, he did not know what he was about to say or do. He felt more alive than he had in years, ever since his divorce – no, perhaps more alive than ever. He wanted to hold on to Cozner and never let go.

But in that very moment, a car pulled around the corner, bathing them in light, and just like that, Captain Cozner pulled away, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I shouldn’t’ve— Please, excuse me.” He turned on his heel and stalked into the darkness of the garage, the sound of his hurried steps bouncing hollow off the walls.

Raymond stared after him, deeply disappointed.

He waited for a moment, until his hands got cold, so he shoved them into his pockets and started walking, the double contraction still ringing in his ears.

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing has eaten my brain. My ultimate plan for this is to make it a three part series, this right here being part one. I definitely want to revisit this verse, not sure if it's worth it, but also this version of Kevin is weirdly fascinating to me now. I feel a little bad about changing Cheddar.

**Author's Note:**

> As far as I know there's actually no regulation regarding male police dogs and neutering. I just added the line because I wanted to give Kevin the follow up line bashing the vulture.


End file.
